


Practice Makes Perfect

by junko



Series: Chasing Demons [46]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst and Feels, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 08:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the fetish nightclub, Renji is 'rescued' from Byakuya by Urahara.  When Renji returns to discover what Byakuya and Yoruichi have gotten up to in their absence, he's... surprised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practice Makes Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the long delay. I had another pressing writing project and then spent some time trying to decide where I wanted this to go (and messing around with some other fics that might eventually appear up here). Thanks go to [Josey (cetsus)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cestus/pseuds/Josey) for her beta reading and encourging thoughts/idea-bouncing as always.

Renji had no idea how Byakuya was able to do it, but, somehow on the crowded dance floor, he loomed. Maybe it was the rising reiatsu that made him seem larger and more dangerous as he said, “Must you always attempt to run off with my things?”

Despite the press of bodies, Renji was already trying to back away guiltily.

Yoruichi, meanwhile, stepped in to peer up at Byakuya. Then she cupped her hand in front of her ear and tilted toward him as though putting on the demeanor of an old lady, “Oh? What’s this? I couldn’t hear you! Speak up, Byakuya-boy.”

Renji expected the next words to be directed at him, something along the lines of, ‘we’re leaving’ or even more simply, ‘enough,’ but Renji never heard Byakuya’s response.

Another hand grabbed his and jerked him deeper into the dance floor. They moved at speeds bordering on shunpō, but, amazingly, managed skillfully to avoid crashing into anyone. When they finally came to a stop in a sheltered area behind of a large bank of speakers, a fan fluttered up to hide the face of Renji’s would-be rescuer/abductor, and a mild, sing-song voice said, “My, my, I’m so rude! But I simply couldn’t wait to have you all to myself.”

Renji crossed his arms in front of his chest and frowned at Urahara. Even though he was difficult to see in the darkened corner, they were strangely removed from the noise and the lights of the club and Renji’s eyes had more time to adjust here than out on the strobe-illuminated dance floor.

Urahara wore grey slacks and a dark green shirt unbuttoned almost to his navel, revealing pale skin and a rock solid physique. His blond hair was a jumble, looking like a style that had grown out from neglect. The ends flipped up where they nearly touched his shoulders and a long strand fell over his face, to split at his nose. There was a scruff of blond beard on his chin, like the start of a soul patch. His outfit was full of anachronisms. The fan looked very traditional, like something you’d find in the Soul Society, which probably meant it was an antique here. Yet, on the wrist of the hand that held it was a black banded watch with a bright pink ‘Hello Kitty’ face. He seemed to be wearing geta on his feet, and a studded leather collar around his throat.

He was also watching Renji’s assessment of him with a slight smile and sharp, hawk-like gray eyes.

Renji couldn’t sense much reiatsu from him at all, which was disconcerting to say the least. Clearly, he was very clever at disguising it, because this was not only the guy Aizen considered a rival, but also a former captain… and Ichigo’s trainer.

“Okay,” Renji said finally. “So you’ve got me. What do you want with me?”

The fan flapped thoughtfully for a moment. Then Urahara snapped it shut and gestured lazily in the direction where Byakuya and Yoruichi had been. It was impossible to see them through the crowd, but Renji could imagine the scene: Yoruichi taunting a perturbed, if outwardly stoic Byakuya. “He’s a curious one,” Urahara remarked, as if also picturing the pair somewhere in the dark, cavernous club. “Yoruichi certainly made it sound as though Kuchiki-taicho was quite the quick-tempered youth. A bit on the jealous side, but you can hardly see it now, can you? I suppose discipline and control are part of his formidable strength.”

Renji grunted in agreement. Where was this guy going with this?

The fan flicked open again. “But, listen to me going on,” he demurred. “Surely, it must be one of the benefits of having a lover as a teacher—knowing all the weak spots to compensate for. Must make you both stronger, really. Lovers make the best teams, in my humble opinion.”

Each word was like a tiny blade of Senbonzakura, cutting deeply. Team? Renji and Byakuya had never fought as a team, not even in training. And training…? Byakuya was an impatient teacher at best, but he rarely trained anyone in the division, least of all Renji. 

In fact, Renji hadn’t had a real challenging sparring partner since he left Ikkaku and the Eleventh. No one taught Renji how to fight any more, except Zabimaru. He continued to study Byakuya’s style, of course, but, outside of one major and disastrous exception, it had all been from a distance. Achieving bankai hadn’t brought him any closer to his goal. As a rival, Byakuya still far outpaced him.

If anything, Renji felt like the distance had grown wider, his goal further away.

Being in love with Byakuya didn’t mean Renji didn’t still want to become better, to someday surpass him. In many ways, it felt more important than ever. If he could, one day, prove they were on equal standing in the battlefield, maybe…

Maybe things would be less complicated.

“I need to get stronger,” Renji found himself saying, suddenly feeling desperate about it. Even more surprisingly, he found himself bowing and humbly asking, “Would you train me, Urahara-taicho?”

“Me?” It was almost a squeak. Urahara was nearly completely hidden by the fan now. “No! I’m just a simple shopkeeper! What could I teach a seasoned warrior like you that Byakuya Kuchiki could not?”

“Maybe nothing,” Renji admitted, coming up. “But you want to win against Aizen’s army, don’t you?”

A clever eye glittered in the darkness as the fan dropped a little. “Oh, and you’re our best hope, are you?”

“No,” Renji admitted. “I’m support. Your boy needs strong support, doesn’t he?”

“He does,” Urahara admitted cautiously. “But I’m still not sure what I can do for you. You have the resources of the entire Soul Society at your disposal, Abarai-fukutaicho. Avail yourself of them. That’s a much better route for you.” The fan rippled flirtatiously, “Besides, it’s a bit awkward to talk of lovers and training and to have you suddenly throw yourself at me. What am I to think?”

Tugging at his ear, Renji ducked his head to hide his blush. The impulse to beg so shamelessly for training had been sudden and out of blue and awkward, but Renji couldn’t help it. He was deeply envious of Ichigo. When he first fought Ichigo, the kid hadn’t even known his zanpakutō’s name. By the end, Ichigo had bankai and had defeated the two captains Renji admired most: Kenpachi and Byakuya. 

It was unbelievable. And somehow Urahara had been pivotal in it all.

Truth was, Renji had already been ‘availing himself’ of every resource in the Soul Society, working overtime—paying dues in blood, sweat and tears for the last half century. He’d achieved bankai, and still got his ass handed to him in a matter of minutes.

And yet even Ichigo, who could thwart the massive power of the Kikōō, was nothing against Aizen. His attack had been stopped by a single finger.

If everyone didn’t get a whole lot stronger in a fucking hurry, they were going to lose this war.

“I just want a chance,” Renji said with a shrug, “To do some good. To do some real damage to that dickwad Aizen. He hurt people I care about it. He can’t win. It would be the end of everything.”

Urahara watched Renji with curious eyes for a moment, and then the fan waved in Renji’s direction, as though trying to banish a bad smell. “I suppose if you stopped by the shop there would be something for you to do, but I’m not promising anything. I’m not running a dojo, I sell candy! If you come, you can have all the Ika you can afford! I don’t even like training! I lose too many hats!” With an irritated flick, the fan snapped shut and Urahara straightened his shoulders, “We’d better find our partners. Who knows what tomfoolery they’ve been up to without us!”

#

Ice settled in the pit of Renji’s stomach when he saw Byakuya and Yoruichi. They’d returned to the booth and had attracted a gaggle of… paramours? Hostesses? Renji wasn’t sure, but what he did see was that there was a scantily-dressed young woman sitting in Byakuya’s lap. She had jet black hair cut in a bob and something in it that made it glitter and sparkle when the strobe caught it. Her skirt was ultra short and she had on a leather halter top that wasn’t much more than a snuggly fitted bra. There were two other women, perched on either side of him, and they all seemed to be giggling. 

What gave Renji pause was that Byakuya actually appeared to be talking to the woman in his lap. His expression was still its usual reserved cool, but he seemed to be interacting with her very casually, almost… naturally. He was, in point of fact, being very attentive to her. 

Yoruichi was likewise covered in solicitous women, though one of her hangers-on was a youth of indeterminate gender. 

“Oh dear,” Urahara sighed, coming up beside where Renji stood shell-shocked. “They started without us. At this rate, there’ll be nothing but leftovers. Ah well, at least Yoruichi-san’s crumbs are always tasty morsels!”

Urahara moved in and boldly made everyone make room for him. This time, he sat next to Yoruichi, and started talking to the person whose gender Renji couldn’t immediately parse. Byakuya looked up at the disturbance and glanced around as though expecting Renji. 

Renji’s first impulse was to walk away, but Byakuya saw him and beckoned him over. Instead, he took one step forward—just enough for Byakuya to think he was on his way. When Byakuya’s attention returned to the girls, Renji spun on his heels and headed deeper into the dance floor. The music had changed, and the rhythm was something Renji could lose himself in easily.

So… he let the music take him away.

Because _away_ was good. Here, Renji’s stomach was tied in a tight knot, and he felt stupid for having such a visceral reaction. He knew better than to think that Byakuya would cast him off for some girl he met two seconds ago—a woman, no doubt, being paid to flirt and entertain the clientele. But, even if she was hoping to score, Renji really didn’t think she represented a  real threat.

She was a stranger, but… she was a _woman_.

And, every woman was Hisana in Renji’s mind. Untouchable, sacred, and representing a part of Byakuya he had no hope of connecting with, no way to even understand. The issue of Byakuya and women was emotional quicksand for Renji. When he ran it into it, it was always unexpected, and it swallowed him up completely. The more he fought it, the more it dragged him under. He knew he should just relax, let it be what it was, but the sensation of drowning, of being out of his depth, overwhelmed him.

Byakuya had married a woman. He’d done all those traditional things that a man is supposed to do with a woman, and, despite himself, Renji worried that would always be Byakuya’s natural inclination.

It certainly was easier, more socially acceptable.

Not that Renji would fit terribly well in Byakuya’s lap, but he couldn’t even imagine a scenario where Byakuya would allow Renji to throw an arm over his shoulder _in public, in front of friends._

And it didn’t help matters that Byakuya wasn’t just tolerating the displays of affection either. He’d seemed to be enjoying himself.

That hurt, but, it was stupid and irrational, and Renji hated the way that fear that clawed at his guts. He didn’t want to be the guy who couldn’t handle something so harmless, something he should know better than to be jealous of. He didn’t want to ruin Byakuya’s fun with his petty, ridiculous insecurities. Especially since, not much more than twenty minutes ago Byakuya had gone on his knees for Renji. There was nothing to fucking worry about.

But, he couldn’t sit there and watch. It would wreck him.

Better to just dance.

Better to just close his eyes and not think about the fact that one day Byakuya would have to give in to family pressure and remarry. Renji wouldn’t think about how it was going to feel to know it was his duty to step aside and let that happen. He’d have to wish them well, stand up at the wedding, and welcome the babies with a smile on his face. Just like he’d let Rukia go to a better life; he’d have to let Byakuya go, too.

There was no future for him with Byakuya. 

Maybe they’d still be lovers. Maybe Byakuya would find a woman who’d want them both or, at least, one willing to look the other way when they came together. Yet, even if that happened, there would still never be a time when Renji would be that person Byakuya doted on in public.

Renji didn’t doubt that Byakuya loved him in his own way, but Byakuya just wasn’t that guy. He couldn’t ever break tradition that much. Renji was always going to be the dirty little secret, the lover on the side. 

And it didn’t even matter about the women. 

Byakuya was still a captain; Renji was still his lieutenant. What the fuck was Renji even thinking losing his heart so quickly to someone so massively unavailable? And Renji’s heart was good and gone, too… long, long gone. He couldn’t even pretend that he could stop loving Byakuya even knowing there was nothing here for him. Renji had known all the risks from the start, but he guessed that’s why people talked about falling in love. It was like an accident, an epic stumble at shunpō-speeds that left you feeling shattered, bloodied, and bruised. 

In the chaos of the music and the crowd, Renji heard his name on Byakuya’s lips. He opened his eyes to see Byakuya standing in front of him. “Renji,” he was shouting, “Do you want to go home?”

 _Home_.

Huh. Wow.

“I… I don’t know,” Renji shouted back. “Do you? Aren’t you having fun?”

Just then the girl with the sparkles in her hair pushed her way through the crowd to wrap her arm possessively around Byakuya’s. Byakuya looked down at her with a flash of irritation. “Come back to the table,” she begged. Then, seeing Renji she gave him an appreciative appraising look and smiled, “Ooooh, and bring your friend.”

“Renji is more than—“

Renji cut Byakuya off, “Go on. I just don’t feel like sitting. I want to dance.”

Byakuya flashed him a helpless look as the woman started tugging his arm back in the direction of the table. It was clear Byakuya was uncertain what to do. Dancing was not his forte, Renji knew that. He could make it easier for Byakuya and just agree to leave, but Renji refused to be the one that ended this evening just to prove to himself he could. Besides, he knew he could. If he asked, Byakuya even would try to dance. But, Renji didn’t want to force what wasn’t natural. It seemed petty.

“Look,” Renji said to the still hesitating Byakuya. “We can leave in a few minutes. Go back to your fun.”

“But Renji, it’s you I came with.”

“Yeah, and you’ll leave with me,” Renji said significantly. “You don’t got to worry about that, Taicho. I ain’t worried neither. Really, it’s okay.”

“If you’re sure?”

Renji nodded. “Go,” he said, putting on an encouraging smile. He wasn’t sure if Byakuya could even hear him over the pounding bass beat, but he added, “I’m letting you go.”

 _Because, maybe, if I practice, it’ll get easier_.


End file.
